Tangled
by RaphaelDelNegro
Summary: "Once, I asked him why he does it, and Stiles shot me a sad smile and slowly whispered 'It's still too good to be true.' " or: Lydia finds closure when she writes a letter to Allison telling her her year


Dear Allison,

I long ago realized that I should write to you, hence for this letter, because I feel like there were any things left unsaid and no proper goodbyes spoken.

But then again, I probably would've never been able to say goodbye, nor will I ever.

It's been a year, Allie. Exactly a year today. Your dad came back from France to leave flowers on your grave as he does every month, and so did Isaac. But they're still grieving and slowly trying to mend each others' wounds, the ones you left bleeding.

God knows we all are.

But a year, Allison. And I would like you to know that a year is both too long and too short: an entire year without you is like the worst kind of torture, yet it is never enough to stop the undying pain coming from the hole you left on my heart.

We lean on each other, on the pack because otherwise we would be forever lost and dueling with the guilt and regret. Because if we didn't Scott would've probably never smiled again, Stiles would've most likely killed himself, and I… well I don't have the foggiest idea of what might have happened to me.

I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, how guilty I feel, how miserable over regret I have become. If it weren't for me you could still be alive, and that's a burden I find rather troublesome to live with.

I find it hard to believe that Scott will ever love again. Kira tries, but he just can't. At the beginning he used to break down every once in a while, unable to fight the grief, unable to hide how much he missed you. Stiles was always there for him of course, like he always is, the altruistic little bastard, always putting his own issues aside for the people he loves.

With time, the break downs became less and less frequent and now Scott just walks around trying to be his normal self again, wrapping his mind around the supernatural occurrences our town so often has so he can take his mind of you.

You took an enormous part of him with you when you left this world.

But every day (and when I say every day I do literally mean every single day) Scott leaves a tulip on your grave, rain or shine. I swear that boy is a gift to our lives.

Sometimes I think I can see the pain on his face when he stares at Kira. He likes her, but you were his moon and stars and I doubt he will ever love like he loved you.

Stiles has grown used to my phone calls at 3 AM filled with tears and fears for a future without you in it. At first, he used to come over and we would talk until dawn but then I saw what sleep deprivation did to him, so I tried to deal with the nightmares and sleepless nights by myself. This was, of course, a failed attempt, so I drove over to his house and as I was about to knock on his door like a mad person, he opened it and stared at me with the same look of surprise I bet I had on my own face. Apparently he was coming over to my house because he couldn't sleep either.

All I can tell you, Allie, is that, that was the first night either of us slept decently in over a month.

This became a regular event and we got used to waking up tangled on each other in the most platonic of ways: his arms holding me, my head over his heart. The nightmares still haunt us both, but it helps to know that neither of us is alone, that we are here for each other.

It still breaks my heart when I see him panicking when he wakes up in the middle of the night, panting and trying to count his fingers, whispering it isn't real when he sees me in his bed, and I just do my best to try to pull him back to the sleep he so desperately needs. Once I asked him why he does it, and Stiles shot me a sad smile and slowly whispered "It's still too good to be true."

You would have guessed that, with time, our sleeping schedules would return to normal, but they didn't: we only grew more dependent of our arrangement, of each other. Whenever we tried to sleep apart because circumstances demanded it, it would always end up with the Sheriff calling me at early hours in the morning, frantic and on the verge of despair explaining that Stiles had woken up screaming, choked up by his own sobs, which didn't allow him to breathe; or with me crying on their doorstep.

So it didn't take long for him to give me a key to his house, and I surely didn't hesitate to give him one to my own.

And no one questioned when he started leaving his pillow in his locker, because apparently, he can't sleep without it.

I often (more times than I like to admit, to be honest) find myself enjoying the fact that we were burdened with this connection, this tether between us that allows us to help each other, find one another even in the darkest of times, because we are each others' anchors.

That coyote girl we saved, Malia, actually dated Stiles for a while but she couldn't handle it.

She couldn't handle that he had to call me whenever he wasn't sure he was awake, couldn't handle that he left everything (including her) without a second thought whenever I needed him, couldn't handle that we slept in each others' embrace almost every single night.

So their break up was inevitable but I would be lying to you if I said I didn't feel relieved: she didn't deserve him. But nonetheless, that same night as we were getting ready to sleep, I told him how sorry I was about Malia but he just shrugged and told me it didn't matter, that if she couldn't deal with the fact that we were anchors, it was her problem.

And then Allie, I don't know what hit me.

She didn't deserve him. And I didn't either.

But that didn't stop me from kissing him full on the lips once again. I didn't even have time to tell you I had kissed him once before, while you were alive, God. But his lips are so soft and tender and move against mine with passion and my hands reached for his hair as his cupped my face and I felt… well, loved.

This was never in my plans: falling for my number one stalker since the third grade, for my number one supporter, for one of my best friends, for Stiles Stilinski. But we were bonded by fate and as I write this I can literally feel you roll your eyes by how lame this sounds.

This is also why I would've never expected to be writing you this in my new winter formal dress. Stiles is waiting downstairs for me but I told him we needed to make a stop at the cemetery because I want to leave you this.

Because even after all that happened, you're still the best person I know and I must warn you that I will never say goodbye, because you were never really gone, because you will never stop being loved, nor will you ever be forgotten.

This letter doesn't mean farewell, it means closure.

And with this, I, Lydia Martin, promise you a letter every year for the rest of my life and most of all, I promise you happiness, both for you and for all of us. You were - you are - a promise that life can go on and I'll never stop loving you.

And now I must leave because I have a very cute awkward boy waiting for me downstairs so he can take me to prom.

See you next year,

Lydia


End file.
